So, I know I haven't really posted anything this week or two... so for your "unwavering" patience, I wrote this chapter. This is the scene where actually killing takes place, so yeah. I'm not usually so good at the descriptive stuff so... I don't know. Tell me what you think of it.

Also there is a new character. Please put your hands together for... *drumroll please*

Sage Havilliard.

I know this is really out of the blue but I wanted the BIG BAD KING to have a son in this fanfic. So I made Sage up. The 1st crown prince of Adarlan, but you should know that he dies in this fanfic as well since Dorian wouldn't be the Crown Prince if Sage was alive would he.

Lots of new characters in the later chapters so stay tuned.

Celaena wiped her tears a while later and sat up. "I want you and Dorian to see this," she said softly. She took his hand and led him unerringly back to the mirror room. Past the carefully lit torches, burgundy gilt walls, and lush carpeting. Dorian, who lay languidly on one of the many cushy divans, jumped up as soon as they arrived.

"Are you-" Celaena held up a hand.

"I am fine," she said smiling painfully. "I want you and Chaol to see this." Celaena walked over to the mirror and sighed, exhaling. She contracted her hand into a fist and smoothed a finger over her amethyst absentmindedly. The words were forced out of her decidedly unwilling mouth." Terrasen's downfall." There was a slight pause, then, the fog extended its filmy tentacles, covering the mirror's shiny surface and they were gone.

A man stood in the middle of a blood-soaked battlefield. The discordant clashing of blades and agonized cries of the dead and wounded rose, calling out to the heavens. The bitter, harsh sting of the north wind howled, echoing in their misery and suffering.

He was poised in the centre of in all, watching with an amused smile. The king of Adarlan. The king was much younger and his face shone with perspiration as he swung his sword efficiently cutting through rank after rank of Terrasen soldiers. The sharpened, bloodstained steel took the head off a soldier dressed in silver. Crimson droplets arced through the empty space. The king only laughed, manically carving a catastrophic path of destruction through the enemy lines.

Meanwhile, the repeated assault of the battering ram rattled the palace gates until, finally, they burst open. Adarlan soldiers roared in unison and with increasing fervour slashed with their swords until there was an opening. They stormed the entrance.

Dorian and Chaol watched in horror as the dead built up. They spared no one. Terrasen soldiers and guards, all slaughtered. Even those not part of the battle: servants, courtiers and nobles, even children were annihilated. It was a massacre. All innocents, butchered.

The bodies grew in number, constructing a crude garden of red and black. The gold-veined marble floors ran with rivulets of copper scented liquid. The acrid tang was permeable, through the mirror. Blank stares of the dead lay watching, haunting witnesses to the terrible sins wrought upon them.

The ringing of steel against steel eventually faded away. Not a whisper of life dared stir. The palace was eerily silent, so lifeless. A pair of Adarlan soldiers stood guard before a set of whitewood doors. Bloodstained cloth rustled, crackling as they shifted uncomfortably gazing uneasily at the garden of bodies.

"We are going to be cursed for sure," murmured one of the guards finally, voice cracking. "The Fae are never going to forget this. " The other guard flinched.

"Don't say that. The king is going to track them down and finish them off. No Fae, no curse."

"The Fae are immortal. They are going to haunt us all and-"

The sound of boots clomped down a hallway instantaneously silenced the guards on duty. They straightened as the boots stopped in front of the doors. The soldiers immediately bowed low saluting a brisk greeting.

"Your Majesty," They chorused in unison. The king nodded and looked to the whitewood door curling his lip in disgust. Elegant carvings of the Great White Stags covered them, the royal seal of Terrasen.

"Where's my son," he growled.

"Here, Father." A young man joined the king, his tunic shredded and blood splattered. The king fixed his glare onto him. The man met the king's glower with a cool smirk. Sage. Dorian recalled the man's vivid green eyes. Even now, he could recognize his long dead older brother.

"You came late," the king snarled. Sage gave the king a haughty grin and shrugged slowly.

"I still came didn't I?" Sage asked bored. "Can we go in yet?" The king glared at his son's disdainful tone but nodded at the soldiers standing guard who were watching the scene wide-eyed. The doors eased open without sound, somehow more ominous than if it had groaned. They marched in.

The throne room was the same as in the first one, with Celaena. The royal couple knelt on the marble floor grimly, shackles firmly in place around their wrists and ankles. They both stared ahead unflinchingly, held at sword point. The king and queen watched the Adarlan king approach, faces stone still. They didn't even blink as soldiers streamed in behind Sage.

Sage issued a sharp order and the soldiers fanned out around the room. The Terrasen king cocked a brow. "Is that it?"

"Are you not afraid at all?" Dorian's father asked amused. King Nikolai tilted his head, mockingly confused.

"Am I supposed to be?" The Adarlan king gave him a tight-lipped smile.

"Perhaps you might rethink that when we slowly kill your beautiful wife." He leered at Queen Leyana. She gazed at the enemy king coolly.

"You will find that killing me will be hard to do indeed." Sage looked ready to blow.

"Shut your mouth if you want to live," he snarled. "You should show respect to your new king." Leyana squinted in Sage's direction. He immediately backed away.

"Your nasty spells won't work on m-me." The slight quaver in his voice betrayed his bravado, but the Fae queen merely smiled serenely and tucked her shackled hands into the many folds of her dress.

"King? What king?"

Sage lunged, his sword pointing straight to her heart. Before the young prince could get to her though, Leyana removed her hands from the folds of her skirts. She cupped her hands together and closed her eyes, concentrating. A single cream coloured frangipani bloomed, unfurling slowly revealing its ethereal, but simple beauty. The queen caressed the delicate petals gently.

"Come, touch," she spoke lightly. Sage said nothing. He stared at the bloom with a uneasy fascination, sword lowering. Leyana raised an eyebrow. "What are you waiting for?"

Face hardening, Sage hoisted his scimitar and looked to his father. The king dipped his head in a silent affirmative. Sage turned back to the queen. The blade lifted. Leyana closed her eyes, hands still outstretched with the blossom. A small offering.

The sword never came down.

Reviews are welcome. PLEASE, please REVIEW. It's really easy to review. Just take a few seconds to write a few words, okay guys?
Thanks.

~Silverleaf~